"Is this too much meat? I will let you know after the first heartattack..." And so began my journey into the beast that is The New Yorker; not the sophisticated intellectual-aimed publication or a Yankee fan flipping you off at the bar, but a signature sandwich of Zaftig's Delicatessen on Harvard Ave in Brookline.
The sandwich menu here is a stunning lineup of simple deli favorites (tuna salad, salami, hot and cold corned beef) and their mouth-watering combinations. The one that caught my eye had the following description:
12 ounces of hot pastrami & corned beef, Swiss cheese and Russian dressing on cissel served with half sour pickles, full sour pickles & sour tomato.
I ordered the New Yorker, my stomach growling for the combination of two of mankind's saltiest meats stacked together. I will admit I did not rationally consider what 12 oz of meat would look like, but the testesterone in me would not have let me backtrack anyway. When it arrived I stared in quiet awe. Two tiny slices of bread sat below and above two thinly sliced, pink rolling hills of meat. My hands squeezed the bread tightly in an attempt to hold the beef in place. They failed. Biting into it made things worse, as the slices of corned beef and pastrami tumbled to my plate, and smeared my face with Russian dressing. I alternated between this, and using my fork and knife to thin out the insides of the sandwich.
I was so overwhelmed by the mass of The New Yorker, it took digestion and 24 hours for me to think about it. After some thought, the Pro's and Con's...
Pro: Meat! Do you like thin-cut, melt-in-your-mouth, salty and peppery, high quality deli meat? That's what you are getting. And did I mention there is alot of it?! Also, it is simple: Meat, cheese and dressing on bread with pickles on the side.
Con: Hubris! The idea of that much meat could be supported by bread which was cut as thin as the pastrami, seems almost crazy. Choosing how to eat this became a challenge. I appreciate a good sandwich challenge, believe me, but the wizards in this deli either did not think it through, or were unsure about how they wanted people to eat it.
So if the carnivore in you is going crazy, looking to be satisfied by mountains of meat (with some bread) give this bad boy a spin.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Falafel Palace Falafel
Ever since I imprinted on the Hostel in the Forest, I haven't been especially interested in other sandwiches, which dramatically decreases my potential contributions to this blog.
However, a falafel is not exactly a sandwich, and Moody's Falafel Palace in Central Square, Cambridge, deserves a shout-out.
Falafel: Not just for showering anymore.
I always get the Falafel Roll-up with hummus, because it's the best. Falafel, hummus, tahini, pickles, other things... a downright democratic representation of flavors and textures, swaddled in a buttery wrap. I get so excited about this wrap that when I hear "Falafel with hummus?" shouted from the other end of the counter, I more often than not respond with a giggle.
The tahini drips out the other end, which is how I like it. You can ask for less tahini, though. I don't know why you'd do that.
My one complaint is that the roll-up is just slightly too big. When you realize you're comfortably full, there's a good inch or two left. You're not going to save an inch of sandwich to eat later, and to throw it out would be sacrelige. You have to eat it, and as a result, you'll be significantly less comfortable for several hours.
The Moody's Falafel Palace Falafel: It's Worth Several Hours' Discomfort. (tm)
However, a falafel is not exactly a sandwich, and Moody's Falafel Palace in Central Square, Cambridge, deserves a shout-out.
Falafel: Not just for showering anymore.
I always get the Falafel Roll-up with hummus, because it's the best. Falafel, hummus, tahini, pickles, other things... a downright democratic representation of flavors and textures, swaddled in a buttery wrap. I get so excited about this wrap that when I hear "Falafel with hummus?" shouted from the other end of the counter, I more often than not respond with a giggle.
The tahini drips out the other end, which is how I like it. You can ask for less tahini, though. I don't know why you'd do that.
My one complaint is that the roll-up is just slightly too big. When you realize you're comfortably full, there's a good inch or two left. You're not going to save an inch of sandwich to eat later, and to throw it out would be sacrelige. You have to eat it, and as a result, you'll be significantly less comfortable for several hours.
The Moody's Falafel Palace Falafel: It's Worth Several Hours' Discomfort. (tm)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Openface: The Debate Goes On
Are you a sandwich, or aren't you? One of the key features of a "sandwich" is the fact it can be sandwiched (I am sorry, but there just isn't a better word to use) between two slices of bread. The wrap, of course, dances on that fine line but has officially been welcomed into the family. The same can go for the pita pocket, but with less enthusiasm. Both meet the important bench marks, after all.
The open-face however, is a slippery slope. There is bread on the bottom...but not on top. It does have all the familiar fixings...but you need a fork and knife to eat it.
What are your thoughts sandwich nation? Can we officially enter the open-face into the genus of your everyday sandwich? Or will it continue to tease us with such borderline behavior?
The open-face however, is a slippery slope. There is bread on the bottom...but not on top. It does have all the familiar fixings...but you need a fork and knife to eat it.
What are your thoughts sandwich nation? Can we officially enter the open-face into the genus of your everyday sandwich? Or will it continue to tease us with such borderline behavior?
Two things
1. Writing that last post made me go out and get a Hostel In The Forest sandwich. They were out of foccacia but it was still incredible, duh.
2. Scanwiches.
2. Scanwiches.
The Hostel In The Forest
hos·tel
n.
1. A supervised, inexpensive lodging place for travelers, especially young travelers.
2. An inn; a hotel.
3. A sandwich. Respite for the tongue and for the heart. The smiling whisper of a beautiful, slightly mysterious woman that it doesn't matter where you laid your roots yesterday or tomorrow-- in this moment, you are home and you are loved.
The Hostel In The Forest, invented by Kelly at Java Jo's in Jamaica Plain, achieves a level of perfection that is rarely glimpsed by human eyes, let alone digested by human stomach acids.
In the warm embrace of an onion foccacia, the following weary travelers are at last free to mingle, tell tall tales, teach snippets of their home language to their new friends, or simply tuck in early with their moleskines:
-Veggie burger*
-Hommus
-Pesto
-Avocado
-Cheddar cheese
-Lettuce, tomato, red onion
*The Java Jo's veggie burger is a blog post in and of itself-- rest assured; it's no frozen Boca Burger)
I'm not a poet, not a bard or a singer/songwriter, and it's with sandwiches like these that the confines of my own clumsy words frustrate me so. Were I able, I'd write a sonnet for The Hostel In The Forest, to honor and immortalize it. As it stands, I'll stand down and let the poet-bards Savage Garden pay tribute:
I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life
n.
1. A supervised, inexpensive lodging place for travelers, especially young travelers.
2. An inn; a hotel.
3. A sandwich. Respite for the tongue and for the heart. The smiling whisper of a beautiful, slightly mysterious woman that it doesn't matter where you laid your roots yesterday or tomorrow-- in this moment, you are home and you are loved.
The Hostel In The Forest, invented by Kelly at Java Jo's in Jamaica Plain, achieves a level of perfection that is rarely glimpsed by human eyes, let alone digested by human stomach acids.
In the warm embrace of an onion foccacia, the following weary travelers are at last free to mingle, tell tall tales, teach snippets of their home language to their new friends, or simply tuck in early with their moleskines:
-Veggie burger*
-Hommus
-Pesto
-Avocado
-Cheddar cheese
-Lettuce, tomato, red onion
*The Java Jo's veggie burger is a blog post in and of itself-- rest assured; it's no frozen Boca Burger)
I'm not a poet, not a bard or a singer/songwriter, and it's with sandwiches like these that the confines of my own clumsy words frustrate me so. Were I able, I'd write a sonnet for The Hostel In The Forest, to honor and immortalize it. As it stands, I'll stand down and let the poet-bards Savage Garden pay tribute:
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life
Monday, March 23, 2009
The Intellect of the Peanut
My Australian friend (if I can even call him a friend after this) was "baffled", "confused", "confounded" and "fucking mortified" at how much Americans like peanut butter (those quoted words are mine). More specifically, he was baffled at how many things we pair it with. Being an Austrialian, this friend often cited the inferior intellect and disgusting sexual habits of the residents of another island nation. I find it funny when two countries - lets just call them Zaustralia and New Australialand - spend so much time calling each other inbred retards, that they don't even realize that the rest of the world has bought a lock for the toilet and fenced off the stairs. Isolated from the more solid main country of peanut butter appreciators who have advanced in intellect and sandwich capability, these outsiders don't even recognize how far behind they are. I happily leave the savages who are satisfied with plain peanut butter and bread on their islands of boredom.
Sandwiches define the classic American childhood. And that's not even limited to white people. Peanut Butter and Jelly, though created by adults, was raped and conquered by six year olds many generations ago. They own it. Peanut butter and banana is also the illegitimate child of children everywhere. And what Massachusetts raised youngster doesn't go to bed dreaming of the warm, white, gooey goodness of a fluffernutter? The dead one's, that's who. You do have to be alive to enjoy peanut butter, but that's about the only obstacle. On that note, if peanut butter kills you I think it is safe to say you should not eat it since you will never be able to eat it again.
Sandwiches define the classic American childhood. And that's not even limited to white people. Peanut Butter and Jelly, though created by adults, was raped and conquered by six year olds many generations ago. They own it. Peanut butter and banana is also the illegitimate child of children everywhere. And what Massachusetts raised youngster doesn't go to bed dreaming of the warm, white, gooey goodness of a fluffernutter? The dead one's, that's who. You do have to be alive to enjoy peanut butter, but that's about the only obstacle. On that note, if peanut butter kills you I think it is safe to say you should not eat it since you will never be able to eat it again.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
My Favorite Sandwich? So Glad You Asked...
I thought I would start out personal. That way if I spill my guts, you will feel more comfortable spilling yours. So the almighty question: What do I like on my sandwich? Well this answer can vary (depending on the time of day, the place, the weather, the mood, the celestial house in which the moon currently resides) but I do have certain standards on which I can always rely. Here they are in no particular order:
1. Bacon
I certainly will stand up and salute the man or woman (probably a man. C'mon, its meat!) who invented this concept any day. The salty, crunchy, fatty meat-ocity that a couple strips of bacon can add makes a world of difference. Works best on its own or a poultry based foundation.
2. Toasted Bun/Melted Cheese
Grill or toast any bread and cheese combo before stuffing it full of your favorites (or don't stuff it. Hey, no one can say they are above a classic grilled cheese!) and you have created an edible MASTERPIECE. The crispy bread and gooey cheese both clash and compliment each other in a beautiful, complete circle of tastes. Those who have access to, or possess the almighty "Sandwich Maker" or Sandwich press have no excuse to not indulge on a daily basis.
3. Pickles
If you need an explanation this, you probably should not even be involved in the discussion. Bread and butter chips, or kosher dill? Does not matter. And the invention of the "stacker" (flat cut) pickles have opened the door wide open on this one: they fit so conveniently in any position, on any type of sandwich.
4. Mustard; Deli-Style/Spicy
You need a wake-up call, Sallie Mae?! A nice kick in the you-knows-whats?! Then smear on that yellow, spicy condiment from heaven and you have just, to use a cliched, overused and possibly copyrighted phrase: kicked it up notch. Makes an everyday lunch experience into a punk-rock concert on your tongue.
1. Bacon
I certainly will stand up and salute the man or woman (probably a man. C'mon, its meat!) who invented this concept any day. The salty, crunchy, fatty meat-ocity that a couple strips of bacon can add makes a world of difference. Works best on its own or a poultry based foundation.
2. Toasted Bun/Melted Cheese
Grill or toast any bread and cheese combo before stuffing it full of your favorites (or don't stuff it. Hey, no one can say they are above a classic grilled cheese!) and you have created an edible MASTERPIECE. The crispy bread and gooey cheese both clash and compliment each other in a beautiful, complete circle of tastes. Those who have access to, or possess the almighty "Sandwich Maker" or Sandwich press have no excuse to not indulge on a daily basis.
3. Pickles
If you need an explanation this, you probably should not even be involved in the discussion. Bread and butter chips, or kosher dill? Does not matter. And the invention of the "stacker" (flat cut) pickles have opened the door wide open on this one: they fit so conveniently in any position, on any type of sandwich.
4. Mustard; Deli-Style/Spicy
You need a wake-up call, Sallie Mae?! A nice kick in the you-knows-whats?! Then smear on that yellow, spicy condiment from heaven and you have just, to use a cliched, overused and possibly copyrighted phrase: kicked it up notch. Makes an everyday lunch experience into a punk-rock concert on your tongue.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
